Chupacabra
by Moony3003
Summary: A Chupacabra escapes from Hell and Crowley is given the task of tracking it down. Rated T to be safe. Contains a little slash.


**Disclaimer: **Good Omens doesn't belong to me.

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A/N: Contains a little slash. Aziraphale/Crowley. Nothing graphic though.

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Chupacabra

It was a dark, stormy night. But to be fair there was nothing particularly sinister about the weather. It was the third such night that week being that it was a) winter and b) England.

On the ground floor of a very old and nondescript bookshop, as rain bombarded the brick walls outside and plinked against the glass windows, an angel stood in the back room, watching as his pot of tea boiled to just under boiling point.

Nothing crossed his mind as his eyes wandered lazily over the steel metal appliance. In all honesty he didn't much care for it but he did find something about the way humans made tea very satisfying.

With his tea made he sat down at his table and opened up the lone book he had purposefully placed there. It was, of course, one of his many first editions and of course, he had read it before but it had been a while. It was time to revisit it. The spine of the book cracked as it flicked to the first page and with a sigh his shoulders relaxed and he leaned against the back of his chair.

The relative silence didn't last long. A loud thud sounded through the bookshop and continued into the back room as the front door slammed shut and a blurred human figure whirled into the room, unbalanced and hit the wall opposite the door way. The mysterious man was unable to steady himself quick enough and it caused a picture frame to crash to the floor.

Aziraphale jumped to his feet, the book slipped from his grasp, thudding heavily onto the table, his eyes wide. But he already knew who it was. It could only be one person. The alarm remained on his face as he moved around the table, his fingers skimming along the surface, watching as the dark figure righted himself and turned around.

"Hello, Aziraphale," he said, fixing his black jacket casually as though nothing had happened. "Nice weather we're having."

It was his demonic counterpart; Crowley.

Aziraphale's face returned to its passive state but worry filled his eyes when he realised there was blood splattered all down the demon's front. Instantly they shot to the demon's face, filled with questions, none of which would form into coherent sentences. Crowley briefly met his gaze before looking down his body.

With a lazy wave of his wrist, the blood disappeared, making his black clothes appear fresh and like new again and he dismissed the angel's concern in the same movement. "Oh. It's not mine," he said with a slight shrug. "It's from a mortal."

The last word made Aziraphale take a step closer, his hands finally leaving the table. "Are you... did you... kill a..."

"No," said Crowley, interrupting the angel's stuttered sentence. "It was a chupacabra."

Aziraphale's mouth opened before it rapidly snapped shut. A few seconds passed. The angel's mouth opened again but he hesitated, each word coming out broken, never having the chance to form. Crowley waited. It was unexpected, he knew that but he could wait a minute or two.

It passed. Slowly.

"A chupacabra attacked and killed a human?" asked Aziraphale just as the demon reached the end of his tether.

"You're missing a step," said Crowley, walking past his old friend to the table, curiously peering down to see what he had been reading. "Oscar Wilde?" he added with a cocked eyebrow and vague smirk.

"Ah, yes," said the angel distractedly. "A chupacabra escaped from Hell and now it's attacking and killing humans?" said Aziraphale with a hint of uncertainty.

Crowley nodded. "Yes. And I've been ordered to either send it back or kill it."

"So, what happened?" asked Aziraphale, although he was sure he could probably guess most of it.

"I found it easily, rather easily actually but it, uh, got away and jumped on the first human it saw," said Crowley slyly.

Yes. It was exactly how Aziraphale thought it had gone.

"What are you planning to do about it then?" the angel asked, seemingly a little uninterested now.

"That's why I'm here. I need your assistance."

"My what?" said Aziraphale in a slow and deliberate voice, inclining his ear towards his demonic counterpart.

The demon's features darkened as he hissed out a long line of obscenities that Aziraphale couldn't possibly repeat.

"Fine," Crowley grounded out through gritted teeth. "I need your... help."

"Why exactly?"

"Because it can easily evade me but its abilities are no match for your powers which will easily subdue it."

The stoic but prayerful tone of Crowley's voice made him smile ever so slightly but he wasn't quite with him yet.

"Give me a reason," Aziraphale pressed.

"I'll buy dinner afterwards..."

"A better reason," interrupted Aziraphale.

For a moment, Crowley thought hard, ignoring the sliding of his dark sunglasses down his nose, exposing his yellow eyes, the slitted vertical pupils dilating excitedly.

"You're an angel!" he said triumphantly, louder than intended. "You'd be saving future lives by helping me with this."

"While saving your skin at the same time?" added Aziraphale helpfully.

The demon conceded, hanging his head. A sigh soon followed as he pushed his black sunglasses back up his nose. "Yes, you'd be helping me out of a tight spot. Now, can we go?" he added, walking out of the back room.

Aziraphale followed.

"How much time do you have?"

"Until midnight," replied Crowley, opening the front door.

"Oh," said Aziraphale flatly, looking somewhat disappointed. "We still have four hours then."

"I want it gone now!" shouted Crowley from outside.

A faint smile graced Aziraphale's face, lighting up his features but it disappeared as he walked out, the door closing and locking behind him on its own, and joining Crowley in front of the black vintage Bentley.

"Get in, angel," snapped Crowley, slamming the driver's side door shut.

The tone was ignored as Aziraphale slid into the passenger seat gracefully. "How do you plan on finding it?"

Crowley pointed to the key ignition. It turned. The engine roared to life. A flash of pride swept across Crowley's face before it quickly vanished. There was a short silence between the two beings.

"Well," said Crowley, putting the Bentley into gear. "It leaves behind a sulphuric stench."

"Hmm..." hummed the angel as he looked out the window.

There was more silence. Aziraphale's ocean blue eyes looked up to the sky. Dark clouds covered the stars like a blanket and they swirled menacingly. The rain had stopped for now. But one look at the clouds told Aziraphale that it wasn't over yet.

They rounded a third corner before it occurred to Aziraphale that he didn't know where they were going. He shot a sidelong glance at Crowley but remained quiet before looking ahead. He instantly wondered if things were going to be as simple as Crowley had made them out to be. It was then that something else occurred to him.

"A chupacabra has never attacked a human before," the angel murmured quietly. "They feed on livestock, goats, even the occasional pet when they're allowed out. They don't feed on humans. It's never happened before."

"Er... I think this one is a little different."

"How so?" Aziraphale wondered curiously.

The demon shifted uncomfortably in his seat with the angel's eyes on him again, burning through each layer with ease. But he cleared his throat and kept his eyes on the darkening road. "It wasn't a pet or a domesticated chupacabra."

"A wild one?" said Aziraphale, eyes still on the demon. "Surely that isn't unusual."

"Certainly not, but no one was watching it and... look, I don't know a lot of the details as I don't particularly care, I just want it gone, alright?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Yes, alright," he murmured in agreement.

The angel turned his eyes back to the window and watched the cars they went passed, the street signs that they ignored. After a few minutes, the car slowed and Aziraphale looked beside him. With a flick of the demon's wrist, the window opened and he sniffed the cool night air. There was a distinct smell that wafted through the open window.

The Bentley eased into a vacant spot on the side of the road and for a moment they sat in silence. The air stilled around them and neither of them made a sound. Aziraphale's mouth opened but as Crowley raised his hand, he reclosed it, keeping the silence going. After several minutes, a growling sound reached them.

"It's here," Crowley breathed, hardly daring to move.

An indistinct noise came from the passenger seat but when Crowley looked over; he saw the angel was gone. The demon cursed under his breath and got out of the vehicle. He looked up and down the street but there was no sign of him. A faint crease appeared between Crowley's brows as he tried to figure out where the angel had gone.

The answer came quickly as a blood-curdling screech reached him. The sound travelled for miles and sent unpleasant shivers down his spine. That sounded bad. Crowley walked towards the source of the noise. It led him to a back alley where he found his missing angel. The heavenly being stood there, still and rigid, his arms flayed out to the sides as though wanting to prevent someone from passing him.

Nothing happened. Crowley shifted his weight between feet as he continued to watch on although what the angel was looking at he couldn't see. Still nothing happened. It was almost like time had frozen and he was the only person that could still move. Only a few more seconds passed before Crowley muttered incoherently under his breath and he approached, reaching out for the angel's shoulder.

"Aziraphale, what-"

As contact was made, Aziraphale turned on his heel sharply before stumbling backwards, shouting something he couldn't hear. Something rushed towards him and Crowley froze and slowly, his eyes drifted downwards. Standing at four feet tall the chupacabra approached him. Its mouth was open wide and hissed at him, its fangs extending down from the gums menacingly, and its red forked tongue wiggled. Its thick grey skin shook violently and became slimy with a wet substance that Crowley could definitely smell. Crowley took one step back but instantly stopped as the animal became angrier, the quills on its back vibrating with rage.

The demon clicked his forked tongue angrily, letting out a low hiss of his own. This wasn't going to end well.

The angel got to his feet but the chupacabra pounced on Crowley, extending its claws. The demon cried out as the claws dug into his chest. He fell backwards and Aziraphale rushed forwards, extending an arm towards them. With all the power he could muster he pushed it towards the creature. It was forced off Crowley and pushed into the middle of the road. It bounced once before howling as though it were in pain.

Ignoring the demonic creature, Aziraphale stood beside Crowley who was on his feet but doubled over, drops of blood hitting the concrete, staining it red.

"Are you alright?" asked Aziraphale; slightly exasperated, peering curiously at the demon that was holding his stomach. "Crowley," Aziraphale prompted, reaching down, cupping the demon's cheek in an attempt to make him look up.

Crowley jerked away from Aziraphale's touch. He didn't need to be coddled. "For Heav- Go- Somebody's sake, Aziraphale, don't do that," he said angrily.

Aziraphale looked hurt. Crowley looked at him for a moment from behind his dark glasses. Something close to guilt filled Crowley's chest but he quickly pushed it aside. The chupacabra situation had to be resolved first.

"Let's just find the damn thing," he muttered under his breath.

He turned to look at the street. His eyes widened slightly. The road was empty. The creature was gone. Crowley cursed under his breath. At feeling the angel's presence beside him, Crowley glanced sideways, not daring to turn his head.

"It can't be far," he said confidently. "Let's go."

They left the alley way and walked along the quiet, darkening street. There were few people about, many of them appearing to leave work. They followed the sulphuric reek before them that seemed to go unnoticed by everyone else around. An uncomfortable silence filled the spaces between them but it was calm.

At least twenty minutes passed before they came to the end of the trail. It led to another alley way although this one was smaller, darker and a complete dead end with a brick wall preventing any escape. Before the demon could take a step, Aziraphale held his arm out and shook his head slightly.

"I'll go first," he said quietly, letting the unspoken words flow between them, wanting to avoid what happened last time.

With light timid steps, Aziraphale stepped into the lane. The temperature felt as though it suddenly dropped but the angel shook his head, knowing it was all in his mind. His nose wrinkled in slight disgust as he walked in further. The smell became stronger. But in a few short seconds, he saw it.

The demonic creature coward in a filthy corner and its red eyes glowered at the angel, showing its growing anger. Aziraphale stepped lightly, hesitating as he sensed the demon following him in. The chupacabra pounced but Aziraphale was ready. His arm shot out at lightning speed and stopped it in its tracks.

"Hurry up, Crowley," the angel muttered hastily, feeling sweat seep through the pores on his forehead.

"Alright, alright," the demon hissed. "Keep your halo on."

Crowley took out a flask from his jacket pocket and opened it carefully. With the slight turn of his head, Aziraphale watched as the demon unscrewed the top and slowly walked forwards, holding the silver flask out in front of him as though it were poison.

"I thought you could send it back," the angel breathed heavily from the exertion of holding the creature in place.

"I could," Crowley said with a shrug of indifference. "But where's the fun in that? Besides, it'll probably just escape again."

Aziraphale decided it was pointless to argue although he vaguely agreed with what the demon was saying. If it managed to escape once and is rabid then there's a good chance the same thing will happen. Aziraphale nodded to himself. This was the best course of action. He was sure of it now.

"Well, whenever you're ready," he said hastily. "I can't hold him forever."

"You're doing fine," the demon praised, coming to stand beside the angel.

But Crowley didn't make him wait much longer. Holding the flask steady, he poured the contents over the creature and together, they watched as the Holy water burned within the creatures flesh, turning it red before it evaporated. A piercing howl reached their ears, their features tensing as they ignored the horrid sound.

Within seconds it was over. Aziraphale removed his hand, lifting the power and Crowley dropped the flask onto the concrete, watching as it bounced and came to a stop beside the shrivelled, dead mass of flesh.

"Ew," said Crowley, uttering what they were both thinking.

The walk back to the Bentley was quiet and just as they reached the car, it started to rain again.

"The Ritz?" said Crowley, smiling at his friend.

The angel showed his agreement with a nod and they drove there in silence. When sitting at their usual table, Aziraphale sat back in his chair, a slight frown appearing on his face as he remembered Crowley's words earlier.

"Angels don't wear halos."

"What?" asked Crowley distractedly, looking up from the wine menu.

"Before," he said clearly, "you said, 'keep your halo on.' We don't wear halos."

There was a snigger of laughter from the demon as he put the menu down and placed his arms on the table, leaning towards his angelic counterpart. "Right, just like we don't have horns."

"Hmmm..." hummed the angel thoughtfully. "So, when do you have to report in by?"

"Tomorrow morning," answered Crowley.

"Won't someone be angry that it was killed?"

"No," said Crowley sharply. "Do you know how many of those things live in Hell? The place is practically over run with 'em."

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, knowing that the demon had exaggerated. It was evident that he disliked them and was glad to have gotten rid of at least one.

Their food arrived and for the first half of the meal it was peaceful and calm. Several times, Crowley looked up from his plate and looked at the angel sitting opposite. He couldn't think of a better time to say it.

"Aziraphale... about before..."

"Before?" said Aziraphale when the demon trailed off.

"When the chupacabra attacked and attached itself to my chest and I... snapped at you not to touch me?"

"What of it?"

"I..." Crowley trailed off again. Demons didn't apologise. "I didn't mean it. I was just in pain, you know?"

"I understand," said the angel softly.

Crowley nodded, suddenly feeling dirty. He was glad that was out of the way.

After the meal they left together. "Want a lift back to the shop?" asked Crowley.

After a moment, Aziraphale nodded. "Sure."

Arriving in front of the bookshop, they sat in the car for a moment. Aziraphale glanced at the front door. It looked almost uninviting. A thought appeared, making a brief smile touch his lips.

"Want to come in for a drink?"

"How can I say no?" said the demon with a wide grin.

They exited the car and Aziraphale led them through the bookshop and into the back room where all his liquor was kept. Usually it was there for when things didn't quite go according to plan, but there were times when they just enjoyed getting drunk with each other. It was a good escape to have.

Crowley sat himself down at the table and waited for Aziraphale to return which didn't take long.

"You know," he said looking around. "You should put a bed in here."

The angel paused in mid motion to stare at the demon. "I have one on the second floor," he said, putting two bottles on the table along with two glasses.

"But you don't use it," said Crowley reaching for one of the bottles.

The angel nodded slightly but said nothing. It was true. He had a bedroom but unlike the demon, he didn't sleep. He didn't really understand the point and besides, he didn't need to so he didn't bother.

"I say we use it," announced Crowley, getting to his feet and picking up the bottles as well as both glasses.

The angel gave a half-hearted sigh but quickly gave in and led the way back into the bookshop before taking the demon upstairs. The room wasn't quite what Crowley was expecting. The room was bare. There was nothing in there but a queen-sized bed with white sheets. It suddenly had the demon feeling depressed. Even the blank cream coloured walls looked depressing.

"Get on and let's drink," said Crowley, pushing Aziraphale towards the bed.

Both of them got comfortable quickly before Crowley discarded both glasses and gave one bottle to the angel who instantly took a sip. Whether it was out of nervousness or thirst, the demon didn't know.

The wine soon flowed freely between them and the heavy conversations started. But eventually Aziraphale stopped everything, leaned against the wooden headboard and held the bottle of wine unsteadily in his lap.

"So, what you're telling me is, you're justified?"

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you," Crowley confirmed, pointing dramatically at the angel. "The whole stinking lot of it is. Justified. It's like... it's like..."

"High school," Aziraphale supplied.

"Like what?"

"High school," he repeated. "If all the teenagers were fighting and you put one group of them in the corner and not the other group, the kids in the corner are bound to resent you. That's what you're saying."

"I don't think that the corner was a very good analogy, angel," the demon argued. "If all the kids were fighting and you gave one group of them candy and pizza while putting the others in detention with nothing but water and stale bread... well, yeah, there you go. That's what I'm saying."

The two friends paused over their drinks.

"I don't know," whispered the angel, suddenly feeling his head became hazy. "All I know is I'm sure God still loves you a little," Aziraphale added. "I mean, if God didn't love you, how could I?"

A tense silence filled the room and Aziraphale blushed at realising what he just said. The demon's head turned head so slowly as though spotting something that he didn't want to startle and his eyes focused on the angel as best they could. A full grin covered his face and at seeing Aziraphale had closed his eyes and he decided to take advantage of it.

Gently, he placed the bottle in his hand on the floor before getting to his knees and moving closer to the angel, whose eyes shot open at the movement. Crowley leaned in even closer, his sunglasses down his nose, and with their lips only inches apart, he whispered. "I knew it."

The demon tiled the angel's head upwards, focusing his slitted yellow eyes on Aziraphale's face. If possible the grin widened at seeing the confused and flushed face of his old friend. Wrapping a hand around the back of Aziraphale's neck, he pulled him up to press their lips together. The demon twisted his body, shifting so that he was on top of the angel, knocking the bottle of wine out of his hand as he placed a knee of either side of Aziraphale's hips, and kissed him deeper.

Aziraphale squeaked. "Really, my dear," he said, pulling away, feeling the contents of the spilled bottle seep through the sheets and his pants but Crowley captured his mouth again, simultaneously grinding down onto his hips until the angel moaned into his mouth.

Ending the kiss with a long slow lick with his forked tongue, Crowley withdrew and rolled himself off the angel's body, laying his head on the warm lap. As he closed his eyes, he sighed heavily.

"You're different, Aziraphale," he whispered tiredly. "You've always been different."


End file.
